


Tendrils of Destiny

by overkill_max



Category: Terminator (Movies), Terminator: Dark Fate
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, F/F, The Witcher AU, but set before any of these happen, lore heavy for books/games/show and made up lore, no spoilers for any of those
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:01:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22112272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/overkill_max/pseuds/overkill_max
Summary: When the world intertwines with another through an upheaval called the Conjunction of Spheres, it sets off a chain of events that will forever change the fates of all that inhabit this realm. Starting with a Witcher named Sarah. An apprentice named Grace and the half-elf they must find and protect. The only thing they know about her, is her name: Daniela Ramos.AKAThe Witcher AU
Relationships: Grace/Dani Ramos
Comments: 14
Kudos: 42





	Tendrils of Destiny

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a prompt by anon. This is for you.

//

**_The First of the Witchers_ **

//

When Islwyn was merely a babe, he was witness to the natural cataclysm that would forever be known as the Conjunction of the Spheres.

Only then it was known as the Eternal Darkness.

It did not last forever, but the way its dark tendrils reached into everything that was and everything that would be was eternal. It shaped elven history from then on. Future, human scholars would call it the Conjunction of the Spheres. Some might even differentiate it by calling it a series of Landings, from whence humans came. But then, in that moment in time, it was only called the Eternal Darkness by those unlucky enough to be alive.

Some say that the Eternal Darkness happened because the gods were angry. Elves, dwarves and gnomes were not praying the way they used to. Offering supplications and showing the gods that they were still worthy. That they still deserved their protection. The elder races were lost, and the gods saw this, so their hands were forced.

They allowed unholy forces to slip into their world. It started with the humans. They were part of those landings that happened during the Darkness. But it did not stop there. For the gods granted humans a bountiful harvest within their wombs and a mighty hand for which to carry heavy steel swords with.

Another offspring of that darkness, of that cataclysm was a force so nefarious that in the future it would nearly be wiped out by those humans in power that could not possess or control it: magic.

The elder races already knew of such chaos, it was all around them. It could be felt and manipulated by them, but to humans this form of chaos, this magic, was as foreign as the new land and they wanted to study it, to control it, to do so much more than they could understand it was capable of.

Others claim that the only things that crossed over during this event was that numerous creatures not native to this reality. That they were trapped here with the humans and elves. Monsters such as ghouls and vampires crossed over. They lacked their own ecological niches, so they created them here, feasting upon easy prey who were unaccustomed to such monstrous creatures. They were relics of this Darkness. Relics of the Conjunction.

Their birth gave birth to another type of monster: witchers.

//

Sarah was such a monster.

Before there was a series of Northern Kingdoms on the Continent, there were only the Nordlings. Humans that came onto the world via ships when they collided into this plane of existence. They started conquering the world that the elder races had once held so dear.

These Nordlings, along with the other humans, began to tap into the chaos around them. They realized that this chaos, this primal energy could be used in what they began to call magic. Even then, it was not enough for them. They wanted more power to continue slaying everything in their path, including each other.

The smarter of the Nordlings claimed that magic would only be used to fight those monstrous creatures that snuck onto the world they now claimed as their own when the worlds collided. The more honest of those Nordlings skipped these pretentions and attacked everyone indiscriminately. Others used their newly conquered magic to experimented with herbs and potions to create their finest work yet. An order of magic-using knights that would help them get rid of those enemies that would refuse to be subjugated. Those that had to be exterminated. Those that could only be fought by another so monstrous as themselves.

The mages knew that by creating a different kind of monster they could let it fight other monsters. Just as steel fights steel, these magic-using knights would be their silver against silver.

These knights, born out of horrible mutations and created out of the brave men and women who volunteered to help their fellow Nordlings were a disappointment, to say the least. The mages that created them did not expect to see such failures. These magic-knights were not powerful enough to cast the spells that mages themselves cast.

The charlatans, capable of mere witchery and not magic were cast aside and forgotten by most mages.

There were others that did not so easily cast aside such potential. These renegade mages refused to give up on this dream. They wanted knights that understood magic, that could command it, but that could also fight with silver and steel when needed. This way mages could continue to master chaos, to cast their spells, while their knights protected them.

The knights were always meant to be pawns of the powerful mages.

Sarah was born out of these final set of Trials and Mutations. But she would not remain a pawn for long. For a knight must remain loyal to their beliefs above all else. And these did not include being indentured to masters that proclaimed one thing while secretly doing another.

//

When Sarah first began her service as a Witchman, as they were first called by many, she hated the pomp and circumstance associated with being a knight. She was a firm believer in what they were doing, so she remained in service. She joined the Order of Witchers; as they called themselves in an attempt to take back a word meant to insult them; because she trusted that by upholding the values they all held dear, they could, like mages, create order out of chaos.

Sarah wanted to coexist with the creatures that were making a home in this world and vanquish those that had ill intents. She believed that there were creatures just, if not more, intelligent than humans, and thus she wanted to protect them along with her fellow Nordlings.

Instead of upholding these values, she was soon thrust into petty political squabbles, inane posturing, and endless banquets that only served to showcase the wealth of royalty.

This was not the order that she had wanted to be a part of.

//

Disillusioned by what she saw, Sarah, along with others started a shift that would affect the future of their species.

Being one of the few women that were part of the Trials and Mutations, she splintered off with likeminded individuals to train young minds into what would become the school of witchery known as the School of the Wolf.

Hidden away in the Morhen Valley was a dirt path, easy to miss if you knew not where to look, that would lead into: Kaer Morhen.

//

Sarah only stayed there for a bit before she was disenchanted by her former friends.

The first disappointment came with how their thoughts differed. Thinking that it was a fool’s errand to pretend to remain neutral while being sell swords, she thought it was best to prepare their students for this reality. The School of the Wolf did not see the logic behind this, preferring to remain staunch traditionalists who no longer advised kings but still thought that their reputation was more important than trusting themselves and their code.

She knew that neutrality would be an illusion they adhered to. It would only act as a smokescreen; it would mask people’s true intentions and they could be used as pawns just as easily as others because they would be led down any path that had enough coin. They could say it was neutral, but in a changing world that was no longer black and white the way it had been in the beginning, Sarah knew that neutrality was not an option they could hide behind any longer.

Neutrality, or the facsimile of one, was still a choice. And at the end of the day, Sarah knew that all they were, all they could be was hired killers, selling their blades to the highest bidder that they liked the most. Nothing neutral about that.

//

The second point of contention happened when they started discarding Witchers that survived the Trials and Mutations.

They should have continued their training, as they consumed the herbs and survived the most dangerous of trials: The Trial of Grasses, but they were deemed unworthy and were banished from Kaer Morhen.

Sarah was livid at how easily they were discarded. Young men and women were thrown away because they did not meet the standards that the School of the Wolf had set for themselves. What’s more, they decided that training women was no longer going to be the way forward, as it was easier to bend young men to their will.

Women, like Sarah, were headstrong and idealistic. Fancy words to say that they refused to be ruled over without understanding the reason behind everything.

The heads of the school framed it as trying to help women by keeping them from having to undergo the horrors of sterility.

Sarah knew that they wanted only perfect puppets and easily moldable men made the perfect vessel for this.

//

Sarah left.

She took the discarded young men and women and helped form a new school, one of her very own. A school that had no illusions about what they were and who they worked for. They worked for corrupt politicians, kings and queens, scared villagers, pretty much anyone that had a coin to spare and a monster to slaughter. Sometimes these monsters were men, other times they were creatures. But these, these monsters were rare as humans were the true evil of the world and Sarah understood what it meant for their school and the contracts they undertook.

This meant that their emphasis was on stealth instead of blunt strength like the school of the Bear, it was in remaining flexible and thinking on your feet, like a cat.

Whereas in the beginning, when the Order of the Witchers stood tall, they were seen as heroes, helping to colonize the Continent by order of the kings and queens they served. Now they were seen as they were: mercenaries. No better than any other hired help.

The School of the Wolf lauded themselves as a paragon of good while the cracks began to show. They took contracts they wanted and not all were the same.

The School of the Cat took the contracts they thought would bring the most common good. Sometimes it meant assassinating opposing counsel members or other kings and queens. Other times it meant getting rid of a corrupt mage, a basilisk, nekkers in the mist or a myriad of other creatures.

Sarah was proud to be part of a school that denied any illusions to partiality when they understood that their role to play could not afford such luxuries.

It was a good life that would soon end.

Exacerbated by two events.

The first was the death of her son and the second was the changing of the alchemical formulas they used to create fellow witchers.

//

The death of her son, a young, bright pupil who was entrusted to her by a woman when Sarah had invoked the law of surprise, was when Sarah started to doubt fate. To think that it was a cruel invention of those townspeople who could do no more but rely on fabricated excuses to explain strange happenings that were easily attributed to a rogue water hag or necrophage.

Sarah had tried to stay away from the mother and her child as soon as she heard he was born.

The woman, a barmaid in a busy tavern a couple of towns over, did not wait until Sarah came back. For she thought it would be too cruel to raise a child that no longer belonged to her. Instead she dropped him off at their doorstep with a note. It only had his name inscribed and to the words: For Sarah.

He was a couple of weeks old and given that she was the one to invoke the law, he was entrusted upon her.

His name was John Smith. For his father was a smithy.

//

Although her life was unpredictable and she was often on the road, raising John was the highlight of her days. They would sleep unpredictable hours due to his fussy nature and she would tell him about the stars, nature, anything that came to mind.

Sarah loved how quick he was with barbs, unafraid, even when the recipient of said barbs was three times his size, John always stood his ground. He was also good with herbs, knowing which combinations would heal or poison her blades just right, depending on their foe.

Sarah loved John as if she had birthed him. The issue was that she was aging slower than he ever would. She would soon outlive him… it was a selfish reason, why she started training him as a witcher while they were on the road.

Only three out of ten children survived the Trial of Grasses. Making it a gamble. Every time Sarah fretted about this particular thing, she saw how much older he was getting while she still looked 18. Soon they would run out of time.

Still, Sarah gave John a choice. He could choose to live out his days as a human, not have to worry about a thing, she would love him and care for him just the same. Or he could choose to join the ranks of the witchers. Knowing that he may not survive the second trial.

After a whole year of thinking it over, meditating and training his body, John made the choice. He would become a witcher, just like his mother. And his name would become John Conchobhar, for he was a lover of wolves and hounds.

It was jotted down as John Conhor, for the scribe adding him to their book did not fully understand John but he did not want to interrupt the boy’s excitement at having a witcher name as it brought him closer to being a full fledged witcher.

//

Sarah could not sleep the night before his Trial. She took her horse, Hound, named by her son, and rode to the nearest town. There she found a witch, unlike her, she was capable of real magic, not just the witchery they were taught with signs like Igni.

The woman was tucked away in a house close, but not part of, the town. Her hut was smaller than Sarah thought it would be. For all the mages and sorceresses, she knew always lived in such extravagant places.

Sarah knocked on the door and it opened silently. As if the wind had helped her push it open, for no steps could be heard beyond the entrance.

Instinctively she reached for her sword.

“Tsk. Tsk. There is no need for that here, witcher.” A voice inside the hut said.

Sarah did not let go of the grip.

“Oh, come now, the night is cold, and I have things to do.” With that, Sarah was pushed forward by a gentle breeze that also shut the door behind her.

“There, that’s so much better, please, take a seat.” Sarah sat on the edge of the wooden chair.

“I’m just making tea; would you like some?” Sarah nodded. “Well? I am powerful, but not enough to read minds.”

Sarah cleared her throat. “Yeah. Sure.”

The witch turned around and rolled her eyes. “Those are the manner they teach you at that fancy cat school, are they? No wonder you all turned assassins.”

Sarah crossed her arms in front of her as she looked away. “Whatever you say, elf.”

“Now then, is that any way to treat a woman who has been nothing but hospitable to you?” The witch said as she brought over a pot of tea and some cups. Setting them down in the middle of the table.

She took a seat and looked at Sarah expectantly. Sarah rolled her eyes and crossed her arms even tighter in front of her.

The elven witch laughed. As if she found Sarah charming and not at all threatening. “Don’t be such a baby. You came here for help, the least you could do is pour us a nice cup of tea.”

Sarah looked away.

The witch smiled. “We can sit here all night, but I have a feeling that whatever you need is urgent, judging by the way your horse is haphazardly tied to my gate… So, witcher, you can pour us some tea or you can be well on your way to another sorceress willing to help you.”

Sarah huffed out and relented. Not wanting the woman to read the leaves but knowing that in this world you never got something out of nothing.

“Thank you. Now. Please, drink slowly. You know how these things work.” She instructed Sarah.

“Sure, whatever.” Sarah replies as she drank the warm liquid. It tasted like berbecane fruit and celadine. Tart with a medicinal after taste.

“Given that you are not much of a talker, I shall start us off. My name is Bella Donna, as you so astutely surmised, I am an elven sorceress and I know you have questions. So please. Introduce yourself and ask away.” Bella Donna bowed her head, urging Sarah to carry on the conversation.

“Umm… My name is Sarah. I’m a witcher.” She said as she took another sip of the warm liquid.

Bella Donna raised her eyebrows and Sarah frowned. She was never much of a talker. Only her son got her to open up.

“Umm. Yeah. I am here… with questions. I don’t know if… I’m doing the right thing?” She asked Bella Donna. The other woman nodded and held out the rest of her tea for Sarah to drink while offering up a dainty hand for Sarah to exchange her cup into.

Sarah was confused but she went on with it. Continuing to drink from the cup she was just given.

As she reached the end, her head felt funny.

“Ahh I can see it is already taking effect. Don’t worry, this is not poisonous. It is merely a way to open us both up to each other.” Bella Donna explained as she stared into the cup and frowned.

“Whoever is tied to you by fate will remain tied. That seems to be your main concern, since it is so clearly laid out here in the leaves. However,… and this is crucial… you shalt not engage in a battle with an elder, for he will best you and break that bond.” Sarah was confused by this. It didn’t sound like any prophecy she’s ever heard.

Bella Donna held out her hand and Sarah put the second cup in it.

“Tsk. Tsk.” Bella Donna made that noise again with her tongue. “Well, the thing about fate is that we don’t know anything about it. Here the leaves say that depending on what happens with that elder, your life will fork in two. One path is the same as the one you’re on now. Clear and true until the end. The other path is dark and uncertain. Full of anger and regret. Both paths will never converge. Please, choose wisely which path you will chose, for once the fork appears you can never go back. Only forward. Dark or true. Those are your only options.”

Sarah frowned as she stared at the woman in front of her. It sounded little the strange ramblings of a mad woman and she wondered if it was true about what they said about elves and magic. None of this felt magical. It felt like nothing at all.

Bella Donna reached out and placed her hand on top of Sarah’s. “I’m sorry. I know that this was not what you wanted to hear. You must have had many questions, but this is all I can give.” Sarah was even more confused than before. She wondered if the tea had been laced with herbs she could not recognize. Witches were fond of that.

She stood up, not knowing what any of it meant.

Bella Donna had these sad eyes that followed her and soon she stood too. She was slighter than Sarah. Like a bird. As if her bones were fragile things.

“Witcher, I am truly sorry… I don’t know whose fate is tied to your own this way. I just know that it will be devastating or joyous. Depending on what destiny has in store for you both…” Bella Donna touched Sarah’s arm. She felt a slight pressure beneath her leather armor.

“If you are willing to pay a hefty price, I can make you a potion. It can delay fate… but it cannot change it, do you understand?” Bella Dona searched her eyes, wanting to make sure that Sarah knew it would be a temporary fix.

She knew of no other way to ensure that her son would remain in this realm, so she nodded.

Bella Donna looked worried and nodded to herself.

//

It had taken most of the night, but the brew was complete.

Bella Donna was pale and sweating. She was swaying a little as she stood up. Sarah quickly steadied her.

“Thank you… I… I made this potion for your other. When the time comes, it will delay fate’s claws, but only enough for you to say farewell. For we are all tied to fate and we cannot outrun it. For there are people greater than you that have perished while attempting this foolish task…” Bella Donna told her while giving her a potion that seemed to glow like moonlight while also being transparent. It was otherworldly and beautiful.

“Keep the vial by your heart and remember, only use it when the tides of fate must be slowed. For they cannot be stopped.” The sorceress said as she placed the vial inside a leather satchel with a long string while saying an incantation in elder speech.

“Here you go. It will not break, and it will not open until you use your teeth on the seal.” Bella Donna explained as Sarah lowered her head. As soon as it was around her neck, she put it inside her undershirt.

“Tell me, what will this stolen bit of time cost me?” Sarah asked. Knowing that any magic made with elder blood meant it would be costly. For no elder race would want to tie themselves to a human by performing such powerful magic on their behalf, much less a mutated one.

Bella Donna smiled, it was unlike the others, offered freely. This one was sad, and her eyes were distant. “I… I have a daughter… Daniela… she… she is a half-elf.”

“You want me to find her?” Sarah asked. It didn’t seem that hard a task to accomplish for what the other woman had gifted her.

Bella Donna tilted her head and smiled. “I know where she is. But we cannot be together. For there are forces greater than us that must be stopped… she… she is the future and I am entrusting her to your care.”

Sarah’s shoulders dropped. She hated people that seemed to speak only in riddles. “You want me to take in another of fate’s orphans? Sure. I’ll run a daycare center in the middle of slaying drowners.”

Bella Donna laughed. “Goodness, no. She is currently with her father… he… he will raise her for a bit… but when this…” Bella Donna cut off a piece of her hair and braided it with a beautiful, blue silk, while chanting in elder speak.

“…when this falls off your wrist, it means that it is time. You must find her. She will have my eyes and my ears. You will know her as you know your own fateling. Her name is Daniela, Daniela Ramos. And you must ensure that she fulfils her destiny. At any cost… or else, the worlds as we know them, will collide again and this time, the monsters that navigate through those portals will enslave us all.”

Sarah nodded. Dumbfounded by the odd night she was having. Wondering if the tea was laced with something.

“Here. Take my pendant as well. This will serve as a compass to her.” Bella Donna took off her pendant, a dull, but beautiful looking blue rock that was encased in golden mesh. It hung on a delicate necklace made of gold.

“Farewell, witcher. Remember, we can never stop the tides of fate. You can either delay them or divert them. But the tides… the tides will always find a way back to you.” With those final words, Sarah raced back to the keep. Needing to see if her son would survive his trials.

//

It seems that fate was more variable than the elf woman had thought, for John had no trouble with the Trial of Grasses.

Still, those words echoed around in her head. The elder and the tides of fate. It seemed that no matter how hard Sarah meditated or how many monsters, both human and those of other species, she slaughtered, it always came back to that. The elder and the tides. She wondered what it meant.

She would stop wondering soon after. As she would fulfil the first part of their shared destiny in a city, like any other.

//

Her son died in the market.

It was raining and all Sarah could think about was how perfect this miserable day was for such a terrible thing to happen to them.

//

Sarah had not been worried at the start of the day; they had just bought new armors, which would be ready in another day. They were out trying to get some jams for the bread they got at the tavern they were staying in. John was excitedly talking about the book he was to read while they travelled. Even if he was not at the school, Sarah made sure he would be learning the theory behind every action they undertook.

Sarah was quizzing him, in that way that John didn’t hear he was being quizzed but his knowledge was still being tested.

As they neared the stall, a shout ran out, blood gushed in an upward arc and Sarah reacted without assessing the situation because all she thought about was John. He was here and he needed to be protected.

She threw the sign of Aard in front of them. Pushing back the crown and knocking down people near them, except for one that stood his ground. He had a bloody knife in his hand. A dwarf that had a thick, brown beard that reached the top of his shirt.

Sarah threw down three signs of Yrden, creating a wall of magical traps in front of her. Not trusting the assassin that had just killed a man in broad daylight.

“This does not concern you, witchman. You best leave this market before you get embroiled in something you don’t belong in.” He told her in a booming voice as he started making his way forward.

Sarah grit her teeth and stood her ground. If she had been alone, she would have left, with John in tow, she had acted foolishly and now it meant that she would have to see this until the end.

She was so concerned with the dwarf in front of her that she did not react fast enough to the one behind her. By the time she swung her sword towards him, it was too late. His blade had pierced John’s armor, the one that they were going to replace with newer, stronger leathers.

Sarah shouted out “No.” But it was too late. The same dwarf that had been in front of her, now was behind her. She swung her sword and it made contact. The dwarf’s blood spilled on the ground and Sarah watched in horror as his skin turned a sickly white, like fermented dough. It was truly monstrous, how it looked like the dwarf one minute and the next it looked like a dwarf made from a sickly pile of dough without a nose and ears that were melted off.

She stood above him. Ready to strike him down. Silver for monsters. The blood hit the stones beneath their feet.

“Come back here you fucking thief, first you steal my face and then you steal my horses? You owe me your life or my money. I don’t care which, but you will pay. Blood or gold. Blood or gold.” The dwarf shouted. His knife still glistening. Similar to the one stuck in John.

She grabbed the thief and threw him towards the dwarf. He was right, this didn’t concern her. The only thing that mattered was her boy.

John wheezed and she sheathed her sword in its scabbard. Blood and rain would be bad for the blade later but all she cared was about her son.

“Mom…” he started coughing up blood. Sarah tried to shush him as she pushed back his long, shaggy hair that she often hacked off unevenly with her sword whenever it got so long that it bothered him.

She never told John that she always saw him after the hack job she did, admiring himself in the river and rushing back to tell their horses how Sarah was the best mom ever because she made him look as dashing as a prince.

Sarah took out the potion from around her neck and uncorked it with her teeth. “Here, baby, just drink this, everything will be fine. We can get you to a mage, just hold on.”

John swallowed down the potion, with some difficulty and his next cough was a foamy pink.

“Mom… I’m… I’m sorry I let my guard down.” He told her.

“Shh… shh… it’s okay baby, you didn’t do a thing wrong. You had your guard up, I did not. I was the one that should be sorry.” She reassured him while uncorking a swallow potion this time and pouring it directly on his wound. It hissed around the sword, but it seemed to be having no effect. She had to pull it out, but she knew that if she did it might make it worse. Pulling out a sword or an arrow always made things worse.

Sarah closed her eyes and hoped that the Great Melitele heard her supplications. She pulled out the dagger and a puff of green smoke flew out and dissipated. That was not good, that was not good at all. Sarah poured a swallow potion into John’s wound, but it seemed to have no effect. Then she uncorked the last one she had on her belt and gave it to him via slow sips.

The wound should have started healing, but it seemed that whatever sort of knife the mimic had used on John was special.

“Mom, I… I’m sorry I didn’t become a witcher but I’m… I’m glad we always had each other… on…” he started coughing up blood, it was less pink than before. The elven potion was wearing off. “it was… it was nice… our journey was nice, wasn’t it mom? Always sleeping under the stars?”

John’s small hand reached up to wipe her face. “Don’t be sad… you can’t cry… witchers… emotions… you should sleep under the stars when they’re not crying too.” The blood pooled around him faster and Sarah held him against her body. She shouted as the rain pelted down around them and all she could think about how fate didn’t come with a warning. She thought elder would mean an older man, not an elder race.

She hated fate and she hated prophecies.

//

She brought his body back to their keep.

The funeral was somber. He was burned in the armor he died in. He looked so young. His body was stuck at 13 but he had aged over 20 years. She knew it was more than other parents got, on top of the 10 he had before the Trial of Grasses, but it felt like it had not been enough.

It would never be enough time without her son.

//

After that, it seemed that the second event that led her out of the School of the Cat came faster.

//

It started with a rancid formula.

And it led to the new set of witchers to have enhanced emotions instead of the ones they should have.

It was the beginning of the end for her beloved School of the Cat. The new alchemical formula was, controversial, to say the least.

Sarah thought it was dangerous to give witchers enhanced emotions. Even with them dulled to clear her thinking, she had already lost her son due to a momentary distraction. She could not go through that pain again.

The rest of the school, the new witchers included, thought she was too attached to the old ways, just like the School of the Wolf had been. They argued that if she wanted to stick to tradition, she could go to a school that would want her kind.

Sarah stood up from the table. Knowing when to take her leave. She heard jeers from the newer witchers, still not having gone through the rest of their trials but they were more influential than she was.

She ignored them.

Sarah had better things to do.

Until one of them goaded her by bringing up hers on. “She couldn’t save her son; you think she could save a dying school?”

The room fell silent.

As Sarah turned around one of the witchers, affected by the new formula, sprang from her seat and punched a man she had considered a close friend. Probably the one who shot that jab about her son.

“You know what, if this is the way forward, then go ahead. I won’t stand in your way. But do not mistake caution for inaction. We are already on the fringes of the other schools due to our commitment to the greater good. This, this formula will only strengthen our reputation as assassins for hire. This… this is the way that you will condemn us.” Someone scoffed and Sarah shook her head.

“Have fun with your new formula. May you destroy us all with your greed to retain your humanity… by the way… it won’t work, we will still be nothing but mutants and freaks.”

//

Sarah was packing up her things when there was a knock on her door.

“Go away. I’ll leave when I’m good and ready you whoresons.” She shouted as she rolled up her sleeping roll.

Her door cracked open and she threw an Aard sign. It not only shut the door, it also tossed her fellow witcher back.

She heard a grunt and instead of being rushed at, there was a softer knock at the door.

“Um… Sarah… can I come in?” The door remained shut.

She rolled her eyes. It could only be Grace. “Yeah, whatever.” She said as she continued packing.

Grace came inside her room. A pack already on her shoulders. The armor she was wearing was ill-fitting in some places, showing that it was clearly stolen from one of her fellow witchers for Grace had not completed all the trials, yet, but was well on her way before today.

“Umm… need some help packing?” Grace asked, uncertain. Unlike the other witchers that seemed to thirst for blood and vengeance due to the new alchemical formula, Grace was hesitant.

She was a skilled fighter, leagues ahead of her peers, but she hesitated a lot outside of battle. As if she was unsure of what her body was capable of. Even after years of getting used to the mutations and the potions that would otherwise kill a human. Grace, she hesitated… until today… when she punched someone for what they said about John.

“Listen kid, no offense but I have places to be. So best get on your way and return that tacky piece of shit before someone realizes they’re missing it.” Sarah told her, trying to dismiss the younger witcher.

Grace nodded as disappointment flashed on her face before she was able to school her features. “Right. Yeah.” She agreed and handed Sarah the map she was holding.

Their hands touched and Sarah’s silk bracelet slipped off her wrist. As if struck by lightning. “Fuck.” Sarah said aloud.

“Oh, here.” Grace bent down to pick it up, as soon as she touched it, the air changed around them. The bracelet seemed to change into a blue bolt that hit Grace squarely in the face. Right between the eyes. Knocking her back.

Grace groaned.

The bracelet was gone.

“What in Melitele’s name happened?” Sarah asked. Wondering what in the heavens this could all mean.

Grace opened her eyes and her characteristically yellow eyes of a witcher were now a pale blue, almost like the color of the silken bracelet that Sarah had worn for years.

“Ughh what did you do?” Grace asked. Disoriented.

“What did you do to your eyes?” Sarah asked, impressed.

Sarah reached down to touch Grace and as soon as their skin made contact, the crystal beneath her shirt glowed.

“Woah.” Grace said, in awe. Staring at Sarah.

Sarah reached into her shirt and pulled out the pendant. It was no longer a dull blue rock but now a beautiful, white light. It rocked back and forth in Sarah’s hand. “What the fuck?” She whispered to herself until Grace pointed down to the map she had dropped.

“Sarah, look.” She said. The pendant was trying to point somewhere on the map.

“Fucking Melitele, that crazy elf woman was right. This will point the way.” She said in awe as the crystal formed a circle on top of the map. It was around Redania, it could be Gors Velen or Aretuza. It was not exact, but it was a start.

As soon as they stopped touching, the pendant turned into the dull blue thing it had always been. Sarah rolled her eyes. “You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

//

Although she often felt like destiny’s ragdoll. Constantly being torn from one home to another, this time, as they were leaving the place she had called her home for many years, Sarah felt hope. She was not angry. Or bitter.

In the past she had been bitter at how fate could sometimes have other plans for you than you had for yourself. However, without fate, she would not have had John. A son of her very own to love. Even though she was mutated and they said witchers felt no emotions, she knew what she had felt for her son was real.

Now, with a new apprentice and a promise made, she was hopeful. They were going to set off on a grand adventure.

**Author's Note:**

> In case you have seen the show, read the books or played the games, this all happens thousands of years before that. Just in case you were confused about the timeline and where our girls stand. So they will not bump into anyone we know, but it will echo a lot familiar things we’ve encounter while also having some new made-up lore.


End file.
